by Peter Barnes
Dinsdale Gurney Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?
Tucker (pouring drink) Life, Master Dinsdale, sir. The rich motheaten tapestry of life.
Dr Herder re-enters with Claire.
Dr Herder Mrs Grant’s a fully qualified midwife. She’d resent me interfering professionally. Anyway, I’ll be extremely busy down here.
Claire You’re not going on with this?
Dr Herder It’s our last chance. Sackstead will never agree to let McKyle out again.
Dinsdale Gurney Where’s Father?
Claire Pacing the corridor upstairs.
Dr Herder Come, McKyle, get your finger out. (Up at cross.) Gentlemen, it’s important to know which of you is telling the truth. If one of you is God, the other must be somebody else.
McKyle Your Worship, ladies and gentlemen o’ the jury. I stand accused o’ nae being who I am: to wit, the aforesaid, after-mentioned, hereafter-named, uncontested GOD. These are facts. I made the world in mae image. I’m a holy terror. Sae that accoonts fer the bloody mess it’s in. Gi’ up y’ windy wa’s, McNaughton, and plead insanity.
Earl of Gurney If it’s facts you want, the Great Peacock is a moth which only lives two days. With no mouth to eat or drink it flies miles to love, breed and die. Consider a life o’ love without one selfish act, members of the jury.
McKyle Ach, and they put me awae fer seventeen years. Only the sick wi’ spiders’ webs round their brains clack o’ about lo’e and goodness. I’m a braw God fer bashing bairns’ heads on rocks, a God for strong stomachs.
Earl of Gurney You’re one of the Fu Manchu gang. (Gestures at audience.) They’re children of condensed sunlight.
McKyle The children o’ licht you ken, are far awa’. This is Earth. An early failure o’ mine. Earth is where I dump the excrement o’ the Universe, the privy o’ the Cosmos.
Earl of Gurney I’m too full of Grace to listen. People care for love – love for everything that’s necessary for the continuation of life.
Tucker (lurching forward) We don’t want love, we want a fat slice o’ revenge. Kiss me arse!
Dinsdale Gurney Tucker, you’re an unmitigated stinker.
Dr Herder No God of love made this world. I’ve seen a girl of four’s nails had been torn out by her father. I’ve seen the mountains of gold teeth and hair and the millions boiled down for soap.
The Earl he stumbles desperately off the cross, putting sticking plaster over his eyes.
Earl of Gurney S-S-some-times G-G-God turns his b-b-back on his p-p-people . . .
McKyle And breaks wind and the stench clouds the globe! That’s settled the verdict ’tween twa’ poor Scottish loons. I’m the High Voltage Man, nearer to God than yon sentimental clishmac-laverer.
Earl of Gurney There’s a light of truth inside as well as a light of truth outside.
Dr Herder (violently) Here’s the truth!
He rips sticking plaster from the Earl’s eyes.
Dr Herder You’re Jack Gurney, the 14th Earl of Gurney. Roll of thunder.
McKyle I’m Cock o’ the North, mae boys. Oh. I’m Cock o’ the North.
He breaks the Earl’s staff across his knee.
Earl of Gurney (writhing as if in labour) ELOI ELOI –
Dr Herder Your loving family tricked you into marriage because they want an heir.
Earl of Gurney Pater-Noster-Pater-Noster-Pater-Noster –
Dr Herder If the baby turns out to be a boy they’ll have you certified, committed, and in a straitjacket before you can say another Pater-Noster.
Earl of Gurney (in great pain) I am the Father. Cherish the worm. Errsh . . . I’m splitting. I tear. Torn. (Writhing.) Crowned. Coming out crowned. BORN . . . I AM THE FATHER.
A clap of thunder. Claire jumps up.
Claire (shouting, putting hands to head like horns) You’re the father of nothing! You’re Jack – Jack the Cuckold!
McKyle (firing with both hands at the Earl) Zzzzzzzzzzz . . .
The Earl lets out an extraordinary deep-throated cry, careering backwards, bucking and twisting from the force of the imaginary electrical charge. He crashes against the recorder on the table, starting it playing back at high speed. Simultaneously, there is a clap of thunder, the French windows fly open and with a rush of cold wind a monstrous eight-foot beast bursts in. It walks upright like a man, covered with thick black hair swept out from each side of its face like a gigantic guinea-pig, and is dressed incongruously in high Victorian fashion: morning coat and top hat. None of the others see the beast, which grabs the Earl and shakes him violently, to the accompaniment of high-speed jabber from the tape-recorder, thunder-claps and McKyle’s harsh chants: ‘Two million volts zzzzz three million zzzzzzzzzz.’
The Earl wrestles in an epileptic fit, saliva dribbling from his mouth. Claire and Dinsdale watch with well-bred revulsion, Dr Herder and Assistant with clinical interest while pushing the heavy furniture out of the way as the beast pummels his victim in a series of vicious wrestling holds. The Earl’s legs and arms are twisted and his face forced back by a heavy paw. He struggles, but his strength soon leaves him. As the background noise reaches a crescendo, the beast slams him down across its knee, tosses him on to the floor and then, looking down at the unconscious man, raises its hat, grunts and lurches out the way it came in.
The Earl lies still, stage centre, one leg twisted under his body. McKyle stops chanting, and Claire switches off the tape-recorder, while Dinsdale and Tucker close the French windows. Silence. There is the distinct sound of a single slap and a baby begins to cry faintly. The Assistant straightens the Earl’s leg while Dr Herder bends down and lifts his head. The Earl’s eyes open.
Earl of Gurney (feebly) Jack.
Dr Herder What?
Earl of Gurney Jack. My name . . .
Dr Herder (dawning realisation) Yes, Jack. That’s right, your name’s Jack. (Looks up at others.) It’s worked!
McKyle Cowl the Minnie! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Dinsdale Gurney Oh, well done.
Earl of Gurney Jack. My name’s Jack . . .
Sir Charles enters upstage centre, a bundle in his arms.
Sir Charles (holding up bundle triumphantly) It’s a boy!
Earl of Gurney Jack. I’m Jack. I’m Jack. I’m Jack!
The baby starts to cry.
Curtain.
Act Two
Scene One
‘Oh for the Wings of a Dove’ played over, then out of the darkness Bishop Lampton’s voice intones:
Bishop Lampton (voice-over) Vincent, Henry, Edward, Ralph Gurney, I baptise thee in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.
Baby cries. Photographer’s flash momentarily lights a christening group of Sir Charles, Claire, Dinsdale, Dr Herder, Tucker and Bishop Lampton, grouped around Grace with the child.
Then lights up on the drawing room, now containing pieces of Victorian furniture and bric-a-brac. The cross has gone. Tucker pulls off the Bishop’s robes.
Grace What a pair of lungs. The little devil upstaged everybody. He’s a trouper.
Sir Charles (jovially, at baby) Coochy-coochy. He’s a splendid fella, eh, Bertie?
Bishop Lampton A vessel newly filled with the Holy Spirit, but I fear regrettably leaky.
Grace Leaky or not, he’s saved you Gurneys from becoming extinct.
She exits.
Sir Charles Things are beginning to get back to normal.
Dr Herder What are we going to do about His Lordship?
Sir Charles The family came to a decision some time ago, that after certain matters had been cleared up he’d be put away. Permanently this time. For his own good.
Claire That was before, Charles. The situation’s changed.
Bishop Lampton I gather he’s improved. But we can’t be sure he won’t sink back into darkness and shadow.
Dinsdale Gurney Sometimes it’s worse than when he was completely potty. I mean, we’re all just waiting for him to go off again, tick-tick-tick-tick-bo
om. We’ve been darned lucky up to now but with a possible by-election in the offing, it’s too risky.
Sir Charles Can’t say I’m the sensitive type, but the strain of the last few months is beginning to tell. I think it’s best all round if Jack were put away.
Tucker staggers off with the vestments.
Tucker I think it’s best all round if the whole bloody lot of you were put away.
Sir Charles And Jack’s not the only one we can say goodbye to.
Grace comes back in.
Grace Nothing like a couple of nursemaids to take the curse out of having kids.
Claire We were talking about Jack.
Grace He’s a helluva problem. What do you say, Doctor?
Dr Herder Thank you for asking. You must realise that the battle between the God of Love and the Electric Messiah was a tremendous breakthrough.
Grace Is he cured?
Dr Herder He’s on the way to recovery. His behaviour is nearer the acceptable norm. I don’t know whether it’s permanent. I do know, you mustn’t have him committed. I’ve got a full schedule of research lined up, but I’m taking valuable time out for this therapy. This case could become a classic of psychology – Freud’s Anna O., now Herder’s Earl of Gurney.
Earl of Gurney Call me Jack.
The Earl stands in the doorway upstage centre with an ancient shotgun levelled at them. Before they can react he pulls the trigger and says ‘click’; nothing happens. He has changed; no beard, his hair is short, and he wears an old-fashioned dark suit with waistcoat and stiff collar. His words and gestures are still slightly out of ‘synch’.
Earl of Gurney It’s a pleasant name. (Imitating bell.) J-J-Jack, J-J-Jack, J-J-Jack.
Using his shotgun as a temporary crutch he crosses stage centre with a peculiar loping hop.
Sir Charles And he’s recovering? (To the Earl.) Why are you walking like that?
The Earl pulls off his right shoe, feels inside, and takes out a large pebble. He shows it to Sir Charles by way of reply.
Sir Charles (disappointed) Oh. A stone.
Claire Reasonable.
Earl of Gurney (gesturing with gun) I found it in the attic.
Grace Why aren’t you resting?
Earl of Gurney I wanted to apologise for not being at my own son’s christening.
Grace The little devil stole the show.
Earl of Gurney I must be sure before I make my first public appearance. Very important to leave the right impression. When I g-g- huitment, re-return dunt d-d- impression of overall superiority and volatile farts the shadow of it is sludge ghoul of a whore, whoredom’s bloddy network. (Struggles fiercely to regain control.) Hold, sir, hold hold hold hold, sir. (Recovering, to Dinsdale.) A relative who said he was Christ could hardly be a political asset for you, Dinsdale.
Dr Herder I don’t know. A Tory leader was the son of a carpenter, after all.
Earl of Gurney (surprised) Lord Salisbury’s a carpenter’s son. Really?
Claire How are you feeling?
Earl of Gurney Lazarus felt like I feel. Odour of dung. Duat d’ d’ s’muss bed sores the executioners arrive for Nijinsky the liquid streets unstable my wooden leg needs morphine. Back, sir. Back, sir. Back. Be patient, I’ll learn the rules of the game.
Dr Herder We know you will.
Claire You’ve changed already.
Tucker enters carrying a cape and deerstalker cap.
Tucker You wished to take a constitutional at noon, My Lord.
Earl of Gurney Thank you, Tuck. Invaluable man, Tuck.
Tucker There’s some ’ere who don’t think so, Your Lordship. (To Sir Charles.) No names, no pack-drill. I know they’re waiting to give me the boot.
Earl of Gurney You and me both, Tuck. We must give ’em no cause, no cause.
Grace (helping him on with the cape) Don’t stay out too long, Jack.
Earl of Gurney Just want to get the feel of terra firma. I must learn to keep my mouth shut, bowels open and never volunteer. Come, Tuck.
They exit through French windows.
Claire Well? Has he changed or hasn’t he? I agreed with you before, Charles, he was hopeless and the sooner we put him away the better. Now it’d be stupid. I know he’ll recover.
Grace And if he does? Where does that leave us? He mightn’t understand what we did.
Dinsdale Gurney I say, aren’t you all jumping the gun? Look at the way he suddenly goes off. ‘Volatile farts a’ a’ duat.’ What’s all that then?
Dr Herder Paralalia – speech disturbance. It would be simpler if a man was paranoid one moment and cured the next. Unfortunately, it takes time.
Dinsdale Gurney There’s all this Victorian bric-a-brac stuff he’s got everywhere. And what about him thinking the leader of the Conservative Party was the Marquis of Salisbury?
Dr Herder Sicilian peasants thought Churchill was a kind of tomato. Thousands of Indians have never heard of Gandhi. Political ignorance is not a symptom of psychosis. It might even be considered a sign of mental health.
Claire Bertie, you haven’t seen much of Jack lately. What’s your opinion?
Bishop Lampton The acid test still is, would he pass muster in the Athenæum? Could he be introduced to members without raising eyebrows?
Dr Herder In the end it’s really Her Ladyship’s decision.
Grace Oh, hell. Thanks a lot. I don’t know. There’s the baby . . . What if he suddenly . . . ? Have I got to right now? Jeez, I can’t make up my mind.
Sir Charles You don’t have to. It’s done. I’ve already asked the Master in Lunacy to come down and certify Jack’s insane.
A single shot, off right, breaks the stunned silence. Claire, Dr Herder and Grace look at each other, then rush out of the French windows.
Sir Charles (hopefully, to Dinsdale) Do you think Jack’s done the decent thing at last?
Bishop Lampton crosses himself.
Lights down.
Scene Two
Spot up on metal sun hanging downstage centre: some white feathers float down. Footlights up to show the Earl standing with Tucker, downstage right, looking blankly at his smoking shotgun, a dead dove at his feet. Voices are heard calling off.
Tucker (shakily) That’s how accidents happen. That could have been me, Your Lordship. You’ve been waving that gun all over the place. (Takes out hip flask.) Not that anyone’d have cared much. No one to weep for poor creeping Tucker. (Drinks.) But I’m not ready for stoking the fiery furnace yet. I’ve got an awful lot of living to do. Girls by the hundreds to name only a few . . .
Grace, Claire and Dr Herder rush on anxiously from wings right.
Grace What happened? You all right?
Tucker As rain, Your Ladyship. Just a little accident. The gun went off. But Ironside never flinched.
Claire You’re not hurt, Jack?
Earl of Gurney (indicating dove, takes off hat) R.I.P.
Grace Where the devil were you, Jeeves?
Claire Guzzling! Your job’s to look after his lordship, Tucker.
Tucker I know my job, Lady Claire, and my place. And that’s indoors. It’s f-f-freezing.
With the exception of the Earl the others are already feeling cold. They shift from one foot to the other to keep warm during the rest of the scene. Sir Charles hurries on, wings right.
Sir Charles (sees Earl) Oh. Still in one piece?
Claire Disappointed?
Earl of Gurney I was trying to do what’s expected. I recall it’s a sign of normalcy in our circle to slaughter anything that moves. All I did was . . .
He aims the shotgun up at the flies off left, and pulls the trigger. To everyone’s horror, the second barrel fires. There is a bellow of pain from the flies, a cry ‘Ahhhhh . . . ’ followed by a crash as someone hits the ground.
Sir Charles Poachers! Damn poachers! (Grabs the Earl’s gun.) Come on, Tucker. After him!
Sir Charles rushes off with a reluctant Tucker. Dinsdale can be heard calling ‘I say, where is everybody? H-e-ll-ooo’,
as Claire, Dr Herder and Grace look suspiciously at the Earl.
Earl of Gurney I had a stone in my shoe and an accident with an old gun, so you still think I’m insane. I know a man who hated the sight of his wrinkled socks, so he wore his girlfriend’s girdle to keep ’em up. Now she’s his wife. I’ve got to stop talking. (Takes Grace’s hand.) Just give me time.
Dr Herder Sir Charles has asked the Master in Lunacy to come here to commit you to an institution.
Earl lets go of Grace’s hand; he becomes rigid and sways.
Dr Herder Naturally I’ll oppose any commitment. But in the end it depends on how you act.
Earl of Gurney (stops swaying) Perhaps it’s for the best. If I satisfy the Lunatic Master, I’ll be officially sane, and I’ll have a certificate to prove it. But Charles has been unwise.
All shiver.
You’ll catch your deaths out here. Odd expression.
Dr Herder L-L-Let’s get in then. We’ve got work to do.
Earl of Gurney I’ll stay a moment and compose myself.
Dr Herder nods and exits briskly wings right, with Claire.
Grace What a family. Enough to drive anyone round the bend. Will you be all right, Jack?
Earl of Gurney (arm around her) The only sensible thing I’ve done in the last seven years was to marry you.
Grace There now. There now. Don’t stay out too long, honey. (Moves off, shivering.) Charles is a bloody moron. I’ll have his guts for garters.
As she exits wings left, the metal sun is taken up.
Earl of Gurney Soft. Softly. Down, down, down, oh, let me keep it down, pianissimo, damp down, damp down. Down. I’m a soft grub ununduuulating. They’ll rip me open. Nail my brain to my skull. Strom, strom, grunk, grok, Crunk. Fug. That means you. Fug. Fug. Fug. Silence when you speak S-i-l-e-n-c-e. Steady the Buffs, waiter, I say, waiter, there’s a moustache in my soup. Kerr-uncrrrr. KORKSHIST – KORKSHIST – KUK-KUK-KUK-KUK-KUK-KUK . . .
Unable to stop he takes out two strips of sticky tape and sticks them across his mouth. Now he can’t speak and his savage struggle to control himself can only be expressed in abrupt body movements. He starts leaping, spreading out his cape; higher and higher, till a last climactic leap, and he lands, crouching in a ball, downstage centre. Dim lights upstage centre to show a dark shadowy figure waiting in the drawing room behind him: it is the Master in Lunacy.